


Silence of the Hawk

by Mesa_Boogie



Category: The Avengers (2012), frosthawk - Fandom
Genre: Apples of Idunn, Asgard, Frosthawk - Freeform, M/M, Silence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mesa_Boogie/pseuds/Mesa_Boogie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint is injured out on the field, kidnapped from the hospital ward to Asgard by Loki, he begins the battle to get back home. Loki wants to help him heal and get my voice back, but....Clint does not remember Loki. What did S.H.I.E.L.D do to him after the battle of Manhattan?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

S.H.I.E.L.D’s latest mission was just quickly put down, upon the take out of one of their greatest agents. The punishment brought down upon him was all together horrible in their own foreign ways. Harsh. It was done so quickly that he was momentarily stunned. His throat was unskillfully slashed, his voice box ripped and damaged from the jagged teeth of the hunting knife used upon him. Blood gushing down from his throat, coating his chest and soaking through his thick S.H.I.E.L.D uniform.

His voice was a hash ragged cry as he let down his emotion grid, filled with horror and distress. He collapsed upon the gravely, dusty, sandy gritted ground; thankful the other agents with him are able to cover him while till an EMT is called to whisked into the line of fire to help him. Having smothered the wound already in the grime of the salty dirt from the ground in the small impoverished village in the desert. 

He was dragged from the battle field no more than that of limp rag doll. The loss of blood from his body was in such great amounts, it would take some time and a few bags in order for him to get all the blood back into his body. Leaving him weak and delirious in such a state.

 

He lays upon a bed in a large hospital ward that must be in the neighboring country they were working in. Nurses bustling about to treat others with injuries differing from his own. He rest his head back down on his pillow to call on rest, for his body craves the healing. Everything aches, from his head, down to his toes. Most of all the pain settles in his throat and lays heavy on his heart; almost feeling crushed under the mental pressure.

When he next opens his hazel blue eyes he meets a figure of a tall fashionable man whom he feels he knows. This man is thin, his face pale and gaunt. His hair as dark as midnight sky, slicked back flat against his skull. A thick green and gold scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. His eyes are sullen and only hinting the dull green.

He tries to open his mouth, wanting to ask the man where he remembers him from, when nothing comes out. There is a gasp and then a sharp pain that hits hard to the back of his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly as he squirms under the bed sheets. Cursing to god that that was a stupid idea. His eyes flick back open upon feeling a hand settling on his left shoulder.

“Don’t struggle, little hawk,” the man whispers to him and there is only sorrow on his face. “Don’t move. You will only hurt yourself more and I wish not to see anymore of that.”

He stares at the tall dark mysterious man as he is speaking such soft words that he can only take are words of endearment. Surely, he is not of S.H.I.E.L.D. He opens his mouth, his lips beginning to form the letters he wishes to string together in what he wants to ask the man. Wanting to ask him where he knows him from. Wanting to ask him why ‘little hawk’ makes his heart hurt like calling on a happy childhood memory of time gone past. Still no sound passes his lips and he wants to scream. Not being able to communicate with anyone makes him feel like a failure inside.

“Rest, little hawk. I will return for you. Know that I will,” the man whispers, leaning his face down close to his and Clint tries to pull back. “I will be back for my hawk, to mend him,” the man now smiles ever so softly now. “So be quiet,” he lays a finger to Clint’s lips, “Rest for awhile till I return.” In a mere blink of his eyes, he is gone from his small curtain closed hospital room. He lifts his hands, careful of his IVs, rubbing at his tired eyes. Tired, he must have dreamed of the tall mysterious man.

He keeps his head down as merely lifting it makes his brain swim. A young nurse pulls back the curtains around his bed and from the window, causing him to wince at the light. She speaks to him quickly in her native tongue that he just can’t place. Then again, he can’t understand what she is telling him and he can’t reply to her. It’s like standing on opposite banks of a large river; you can’t hear each other and communication his useless.

So he waves a hand at her and sighs silently. She leaves a few minutes after just staring at him like he just turned her down from a date. He turns his head to the side and looks all the others in the hospital ward with him. His mind quickly turning over pages, trying to think to back when he first saw the tall mysterious man who came to visit him. After some time, pulling on a headache, he gives up. Closing his eyes and resting the best he can.

The next morning, he comes around the sounds of voices around his bed. At first he can’t quite place them, after a minute of his brain adjusting into the right gear, he picks up on the English. Most of all recognizing the sound of the woman he fancies most in the world, Natasha Romanoff.

“Clint! You’re awake!” she leans down and throws her arms around him, kissing over his cheeks, the tip of his nose and forehead. She clearly happy that he is still around in this world. He smiles upon accepting the love she is clearly giving to him. He wishes he could tell her about the mysterious man, but the pain is still set deep in his throat and he just croaks. She looks at him confused, concerned etched across her face. She gently lays her left hand over his neck, to the bandages that at wrapped tightly around there. Then there is hurt in her eyes and he captures her hand in his, slowly kissing at her knuckles. In his mind he is whispering in her ear such sweet nonsense.

“You don’t have to try to speak, Clint. Just rest up and maybe the doctors can do something to help fix your voice,” she whispers softly. Agent Coulson stands tall behind her, concern on his face too and Clint feels horrible inside. “No, Clint, don’t beat yourself. It wasn’t you fault. You didn’t know. We didn’t know. It happened all quickly. Now you just rest, we have the situation covered. S.H.I.E.L.D can handle this,” she smiles at him, patting him on the chest gently. Both of them turn away from the bed and leave him.

The rest of his day, he watches everyone passing by his bed. Taking note of their injuries, from a simple broken leg to head traumas. From the young to the old and frail. From babies crying to the silence of death.

When night rolls around and he feels tired enough to go to sleep, the man returns. Startling Clint awake out of his warm and fuzzy dream. The man is dressed differently this time. This time he is in heavy black and green leather. Clint frowns, feeling something is off here.

“I told I would return for you, my little hawk,” the man whispers with a smile, holding out a hand towards him. Clint feels at unease, squirming slightly in his bed. “No, little hawk, don’t do that. Cooperate with me. I’m going to help you, agent Barton.” That snaps his attention back into reality at the mere mention of his name. “Barton. At ease.” He doesn’t know if he can be at ease with this man knowing his name but his unable to recall him. “This won’t hurt, I promise you.” He sets a hand down on his chest and blanket of hot rushes through his body, it gone as quickly as it was brought on. Coming to to find himself up on his feet. His knees buckling under him, but he is quickly caught by the mysterious man, who drags him down a long hall that is lit by torches.

The man flicks his wrist and a large heavy door opens on its own and he helps him into a large room. Settling him down on the king sized bed.

“That’s it, little hawk,” the man helps him with his legs, helping him under the thick heavy bed coverings with fur pelts. “Here you will rest and I will bring the healers around later to check on you.” Clint still stares up at him, feeling his fingers clenching and unfurling, there’s still no voice coming from him. “You have something you wish to say, little hawk?” the man asks, so Clint nods his head. The mysterious man turns away, coming back with a blank book and a quill pen. Confusing Clint further, but he grasps the pen and scrawls his one question upon the blank parchment.

‘Who are you?’


	2. Chapter 2

Loki, Norse god of lies and mischief, feels hurt by what Clint has just written down on the page in the empty book. A question he thought he’d never see written down or spoken directly to him, come from his little hawk. Not really wanting to answer it out of fear of driving him away. If he were to tell the truth, Clint would only do all that he could to get away from him. But if he were to weave one of his clever lies, all could be right between them once more.

“Barton, how could you have forgot?” he smiles. “Loki.” He studies Clint’s expression for any hint of recognition, but there is none. Clint just continuing to stare at him in so much confusion clouding his vision. “Clinton...”

‘How do you know my name?,’ Clint writes out now on the parchment paper. Loki frowns upon reading the letters written in ink.

“Oh, I know you, Barton. Better than you know yourself.” He then turns away from the S.H.I.E.L.D agent in disgust. This is just plain degrading. They must have done something to him after the Manhattan attack. They must have played with his mind, altered his memories. It brings a grin to Loki’s lips. They must think they are so clever to even try to fool him. “Rest now, Barton. I’ll bring a healer in to see you.” He slips out of the room and locks the door with only a spell he can undo. Knowing then that his hawk is safe inside.

His walk is long, along cold corridors not lit with light. The brisk wind of winter blowing in from Jotunheim. It rattles through his body and makes him smile. Deep inside his Jotun heritage sings in the chilling coldness. Snow is on the way, he can feel it deep in his bones. 

Here, on Asgard, winters are brutal and harsh on them all, as the ice is thick and takes so much time to melt away. He shuffles along the stone corridors till he comes upon the room where the healers study. He pauses outside the door with his hand on the door knob. It dawning on him that he is just as good as any of the healers on Asgard. He can mend his little hawk back together. Turning quickly on his heel and heading back to his chambers. Unsealing the door and slipping quietly inside, finding Clint has slipped off to sleep. His little hawk looking so peaceful in this state, but his breathing his jagged and rough. Loki takes a step closer and lays his fingers on the bandages firmly wrapped around his neck. There is a faint green glow of magic and Clint whines, shifting in his sleep and Loki pulls back his fingers. “Sorry, little hawk. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispers to the sleeping human in his bed. He looks over the rest of Clint’s body, to the other wounds marring his skin. Making quick work to heal them. Pulling the covers up under Clint’s chin and leaving him to rest peacefully in sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint kicks the blankets off of him and off of the large bed he fell asleep in. Sitting up quickly and his stomach clenches and he retches. His throat sore and on fire, such irritation set so deep in, where he can’t scratch. After his moment of pain, he tries to take in his surroundings. 

He is no longer in the hospital ward, that is the first thing he checks off his mental question list. The room he is in is made up of stone and wood. The ceiling high above his head and peering around the cover canopy around his bed, he spots a fire burning in the fireplace. Bookshelves line one wall, with wide spines and gold lettering. The floor is also fine stone, fit together without the use of mortar in between.

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed to the cold stone floor. Standing on two wobbly legs and still dressed in his hospital johnny. Stumbling for the door and holding tight to the handle as he tries to jerk it open with all his might. His bladder screaming for release and there’s no bathroom in sight that he can see. Just long halls stretching in both directions.

Clint takes the one on the right, keeping one hand against the wall to steady himself as he makes his journey along the long corridor, all the while his bladder is screaming for release.

Not making it far before his knees give out and he sinks to the cold stone floor. Relieving himself with a ragged gasp that borders on pleasure. Unable to draw on the strength to push himself back up, he stays on the floor, helpless. He passes out there and only comes to when he feels rough hands shake him.

Clint opens his tired eyes and looks up to a face he does know and recognize. Standing over him is none other than the Norse god of thunder, Thor. He opens his mouth to ask him where he is and how he got here, till he remembers about his throat. Moving a hand to his bandaged throat and looking away in embarrassment.

“Hawk, what are you doing here on Asgard?” Thor’s booming voice rings in his ears and leaves him shuddering. Clint can’t answer, so he shakes his head side to side. Hoping at least the god could understand that his throat is hurt and he is unable to speak. “You do not answer me, hawk.” Thor frowns upon him now and Clint rolls his eyes. Rubbing his fingers against the bandages around his neck. “By Odin’s beard, you are hurt!”

Just then, with long stride and the heels of his boots dragging on the floor of the hall, comes the mysterious man from the night before. Looking none too happy that Thor is standing over him.

“Leave now, Thor,” he hisses at his brother and trying to push him away from Clint.

“Loki, what is he doing here on Asgard?” Thor asks, demanding an answer out of his younger step brother.

“Does it matter why he is here?” Loki pins him with a glare and a question to answer Thor’s question. Not clearing anything up for him. “He’s here with me, he needs a healer. Now leave us be, Thor.” Clint gasps as he feels Loki’s hands under his arms and helping lift him up on his shaky legs. Then feeling Loki tug on his wrist, pulling him along back down the hall.

“You should be more stealthy, little hawk,” Loki hisses under his breath towards him. He wants to yelp at how hard Loki is gripping on to him, but no sound comes out of his mouth. So he nods his head and keeps it low, shuffling along with Loki back to the bedroom. The door shutting and locking behind them. “You shouldn’t leave this chamber, Barton, you’ll hurt yourself. And we don’t want that, do we?” Loki leans down, brushing his lips against Clint’s before retreating. “How about a change of clothes, hm?” He gives a flick of wrist, Clint feels clothing magically pulling across his skin and forming to his body. Snapping his head back up to stare at Loki. Loki smiles lowly upon seeing the look of surprise on Clint’s cute face. “Now, you need rest and I need to research on how to help heal you and give back your speech.”


	4. Chapter 4

Clint felt himself pulled under by sleep not too long after the dark haired man left the room. His eyes are tired and sore, his eyelids slowly dropping down and he slips into the world of wild dreams. Dreams of the battle field, of war, of death and blood. Dreams of hot heated sex with Natahsa. His Natasha, that he feels he may never see again. The dream feeling so real, he can feel the warmth of her body and her legs wrapped around his waist and hooking behind the small of his back, keeping him locked in. He whines, shifting under the sheets of the bed and coming awake.

He gags upon opening his eyes and finding himself still in the mysterious room. A fire burning lowly in the fire place over in the corner. He shifts out from under the heavy covers, making his way to the chair in front of the fire place. Sinking down into it, his whole body aching. Slowly slipping back into the land of sleep when he hears someone come in through the door. Turning and looking over the top of the chair to see who it is. The tall dark man is back once more, and carrying a stack of old books. Watching him set them down on the bed, taking note that Clint is no longer sleeping in it.

“Barton?” he turns, his green eyes and pinning Clint to stay in the chair. “There you are,” he smiles, walking over slowly. “Clint, what are you doing awake? You are suppose to be resting up in bed.” Clint continues to stare, one hand going to rub at the bandages at his neck. “I’m working on that,” the man nods his head up and down. “Come, back to bed and I’ll help with your other wounds.”

He stares a few minutes longer before slipping from the chair and limping slowly back to the large bed. Sinking down besides the books. Reaching out and running a finger over the dust covered books. Lifting his eyes to meet his capture’s.

“Yes, I’m researching on how to help you and I believe I’ve come down the only choice we have left. First, strip and I’ll help with your other wounds.” Clint finds that he is not scared of this man, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Revealing a patchwork of bandage wrappings. Tugging on the ends to unravel them. Sadly looking down on his marred, red and purple skin. Guessing he got pretty beat in the last battle in the desert. “Not looking pretty, Barton.” He lifts his gaze back up to the stranger and nods his head. “Lay down. This won’t hurt, I promise.” Clint obeys and watches the man walk around the end of the bed and around to his side. His right hand glowing a low light green, moving it slowly over Clint’s chest. Hovering an inch over his wounds. He feels a rush of what it feels like when one dives into a pool on a hot day. All his pain and worries washed away with the soft green glow. But the stranger pulls his hand back and Clint wants to yell at him not to stop. “This won’t work on your neck, Barton,” he says, laying a finger on the bandages that are tight around his tired throat.

‘Then what will?? Tell me!’ he writes down in the blank book that was left by the bedside. Wanting answers and wanting them now. Seeing Loki smile lowly .

“It’s not that simple, Barton. Your neck, your voice, is not like the wounds on the rest of your body. Your voice is unique and different. It will require a different type of healing process. And I do believe I have discovered it.”

‘What is it? What do I have to do? Do I get to go home?’

“Barton, this is your home.”

‘Just tell me,’ he sneers at Loki.

Loki’s green eyes narrow into fine slits and for some moments, he and Clint lock glares.

“The golden apples. The golden apples of immortality that grow in Idunn’s garden. The apples will heal all through your body.”

‘Immortality?’

“Yes, live forever,” Loki sighs.

‘I don’t want that.’

“You want your voice back, don’t you, Barton?” Loki frowns. Clint stares blankly at him, internally dumbfounded before nodding his head. “Then we will make the trip to Idunn’s garden for one of her prized golden apples. It won’t be easy to get our hands on one.”

‘Why not?’

“Oh, Idunn and I have a history,” Loki laughs softly and this startles Clint. “Plus, I’ve caused evil with stealing her apples once before to take back to the frost giants. Lets say, I barely got out of that deal with my pride still intact.”

‘You’re hopeless.’

“You doubt me, Barton? I almost had rule over your world, you humans,” Loki sneers at him, but Clint turns his nose up, knowing that Loki will not touch him in the way of hurt. Oddly, the god wants him safe and alive. “Very well, think what you like. We are heading out later to Idunn’s garden.” He watches Loki get up from the side of the bed and begin to pace in front of the fire. “I must get my fingers on one of her apples. Even just a slice will do. You do not need to eat the whole thing.” More pacing, Clint following him with his eyes till his mind spins and he lays back on the bed. Never knowing watching someone would be so tiring. “Hawk?” Clint cracks open his eyes.

‘Sleepy,’ he writes out in the book and Loki nods his head. 

“Alright, yes, you need to rest up. Tomorrow we shall leave Asgard. By then, you’ll have enough of your strength back to make the trip. Rest up, agent Barton.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering the garden of Idunn uninvited is not a smart move......

He allowed Clint to sleep in as late as his mind allowed him, into the morning. Having opened the heavy curtains over his windows and allowing the sun to stream inside. This causing Clint to stir and wake from his slumber. Looking all so innocent and sweet, that Loki just wants to kill him. He reaches and pulls down the coverings over Clint’s body, the human curls up into a tighter ball and turns away from him. Leaving Loki to walk his fingers up his spine.

“Barton,” he purrs softly as the human’s body gently shudders in what he perceives to be pleasure and happiness at the mere attention to the skin. “It is time to wake up and get moving. This is going to be a long journey and your first through the new bifrost.” Watching Clint sit up and shake his head side to side, no. Clearly shaking off his slumber as he rubs at his eyes like a little child waking from a nap. “Clinton, do not argue with me. I want your hear your voice back as much as you do,” he reaches out with on hand and ruffles Clint’s sandy blond hair. “Get up and walk over to the old oak wardrobe on the far side of the room. You will find what ever you would like to wear, there.” He gets up from the bed so Clint can timidly slip from under the covers and make his way, barefooted, across the floor to the wardrobe. Watching him pull open the creaky double doors and peek his head inside.

Clint emerges with some of Asgard’s finest wrappings and looking as though he belongs to this realm and not Midgard. Making Loki smile lowly, slightly proud inside. Clint turns, returning to the bed, grabbing the blank book and beginning to write. Loki leans in close to watch.

 

 _‘I guess I am ready to go. But really...and I’m sorry...but I don’t know you and this is all so creepy. Starting with you kidnapping me from the hospital.’_ He ends it by looking up at Loki with hazy eyes.

“Oh, you know me and I know you, Barton. Very well, in fact,” Loki answers, turning away from him. Wondering what did S.H.I.E.L.D do to his little hawk? They must have somehow were able to get in and alter Clint’s memories of the battle of New York, of being under his mind control. How cruel those humans can be.

The ride out across the bifrost bridge to the new transporter took a little longer than he expected. Giving Clint the horse to ride, as he is still recovering from his new healed wounds and is adjusting the pressure change on Asgard. Loki had forgotten about that. He has to be more careful if he wishes to keep his little hawk alive for the journey. 

He helps Clint down off the horse and down onto his own for feet. Watching him wobble for a minute before he regains his balance. “We have reached the newly rebuilt transporter. Makes it a lot easier without having to sum up a good deal of dark matter. Do not worry, hawk, it will not hurt you.” He leads Clint into the transporter room, setting their destination and waiting for the portal to open up. He reaches back and grabs tightly to Clint’s clammy hand. “You want your voice back, hawk, this is the only way.” He watches Clint gulp and then nod his head up and down slightly, taking a step forward, closer to him and bracing for what is to come.

The portal opens and grabs hold of them, sucking them through space and shooting them towards their destination. Dumping them into a bramble patch with a loud thud. Clint cursing quietly; Loki can tell from the movement of his lips. He too is cursing upon why Idunn would even grow such horrid plants in her garden. He grumbles and has to crawl out on his hands and knees, tugging out Clint after him. Helping the human pick out long thorns from his new clothes, out of his hair and palms. So much blood from so many little wounds. Loki sighs as he runs a hand in front of Clint’s face and over his hands, healing all the thorn marks before doing it to himself.

Clint reaches into his small satchel at his side, pulling out that empty book and beginning to write. Loki waits, leaning in to watch.

‘Where are we? That hurt.’

“Idunn’s garden,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I am sorry, I did not know that we would be dumped into a bramble patch. What an odd thing for Idunn to grow”

‘Suuuuure.’

“Are you talking back against me, Barton?” Loki frowns at him.

There is a long silence and Clint frowning back at him that they do not even hear that they are being surrounded by guards. Quick to snatch them up and drag canvas bags over their heads. This was a grand entrance into the garden of Idunn.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint woke, feeling cold and with his face down against the cool dirt floor of the small room. He sits back and rubs a hand against his sore head and looks about for Loki. He feels he was hit in the back of his head with a club, feeling for a monkey bump, pulling back his fingers to find blood. Great.

He pushes himself up on his wobbly legs and squints into the darkness. Forcing himself to walk on to the corner of the small room, tripping over something and falling back down to the ground. He curses silently and looks back to what he has tripped over. Turning around and feeling a body.

“Ow, why’d you have to go and do that, Clint?” Loki groans, sitting up and pushing away Clint’s wandering hands. Clint sighs when he learns it’s only Loki and shakes his head side to side. “In Idunn’s dungeon. Great. Now if only we can we can get the guards to bring her to see us.” Loki pushes himself up and grabs hold of Clint for balance. He finds himself wobbly as the other male uses him like walking stick.

“So my two boys are now awake. I am sorry they had to bring you in that way.” Clint blinks a few times as the dark tunnel leading to their chamber begins to brighten and a tall figure of a woman stands in front of their cell. Her hair is long to her waist, doing gentle waves as it flows out. So blond and gold, that it looks to be straw or gold. Clint can’t help till he notices, that he had been reaching his arm through the bars of the cell, fingers wriggling, wanting to touch her hair. She turns and gives him the sweetest smile, teeth pearly white. Her eyes like two large sparkling blue stones, her cheeks rosy pink. “I have a human in my dungeon, how did this happen?” With a flick of her fingers, the lock disintegrates and the cell door swings open. Clint stays still for a few seconds before taking a few steps to approach her. “Come, come here, human,” she beckons to him and he obeys.

Clint approaches the fine woman and she allows him to touch her hair and he feels as if he has gone to heaven. It is softer than imagined it would be.

“That is enough, human,” she bats his hand away from her hair and then focuses her attention to Loki, who is standing behind him. “What are you doing back here, trickster? Trying to steal more of my apples to barter off so the giants won’t kill you?” she shakes her head, making a soft clinking sound with her tongue. “Do you never learn, silver tongue?”

“I’m not here to steal from you again like that, Idunn,” he gives a slight bow to her and an arch of one black brow. Clint can tell that he’s lying, wishing he could in turn, tell the goddess, but again, his lack of speech. His fingers tickling at the bandages around his neck, remembering the carnage of receiving such a battle wound. The memory flooding back of the sharpness of the knife slicing through his skin and digging into the muscle of his neck. The horrid pain that filled his heart and soul. Oh, to be able to speak again would be a dream come true and he could tell Loki off.

“Glad to hear that, silver tongue,” she gives a soft smile and turns away from them with a swish of her long golden hair. Clint looks back at Loki once before grabbing his nap sack and following the fair goddess out of the dank hole in the ground. He is temporarily blinded by the bright light as they step out into the sun. With a look around at his surroundings, he sees it’s not that much different from Earth. Long green grass blowing in a slight breeze as they walk through a forest of tall gnarly old trees. He watches as Idunn reaches out and rests her hand on one of the trees as she passes them. He looks up and watches the yellow leaves return to green. “No tree should ever have to loose its leaves and wither.” She turns to face Clint with a warm smile and he feels his insides seem to melt. He could get use to this, as long as he shakes Loki off.

She leads him to an old wide tree, leaning in close and whispering something; taking a step back as a door appears. She pulls it open and beckons them both in. Clint takes a step inside and instantly gets a kink in his neck from looking up. Inside the tree is a large open room with a spiral staircase slithering up several floors. He lurches forward as Loki pushes against him to get moving once more. Following Idunn to a long oak dinning table; already set up with a meal for them. Large bowls filled with berries and fruits beyond Clint’s imagination. And he takes a step closer to investigate. Catching a whiff of organic earthiness to the things laid out on the table. Cooked vegetables and salads, but no meat. No ham or beef.

Clint turns around to face Idunn, about to rattle his brain off to her when he remembers his speech problem. Setting down his bag and digging out the blank book and pen. Writing out to her instead.

‘ _This place is magnificent. I’ve never seen anything on such a grand scale like this._ ’

“Oh, I am glad to hear that, human,” she smiles at him. “What is your name? So I don’t continue any longer calling you ‘human’.”

‘ _It’s Clint. Clint Barton,_ ’ he looks up to meet her soft blue eyes with a smile on his face and a slight blush. Feeling so drawn and attracted to her. One second he is staring, the next he is drawn back by a tug on his coat by Loki.

“You didn’t need to go through all this trouble for us, Idunn,” he leans in with a slight smile.

“I must treat all my guests in the way I would like to be treated in return. It is not that difficult to understand, Loki.” She turns from them, running her hand down the edge of the table before turning once more. “You may lodge here for as long as you see fit. I will show you to your rooms now.” She leads them up the tall spiral staircase in the center of the tree; the further they ascend, the darker it becomes. She opens a door to a small room with only one bed already made up. “This is where you can stay.”

“Thank you, Idunn,” Loki gives a slight bow to her and shuts the door. Clint turns and walks over to the single bed. Setting down his things before laying down for a rest. Needing it after their travels to this realm. He shall rest easy, or so he thinks.


	7. Chapter 7

He turns to face his hawk once he has shut Idunn out. Now alone with the other male in a way he only imagined in his wildest dreams. He does not possess the power of the tesseract any longer and this causes him to ponder upon how he will be able to take grasp of Clint’s mind and bend it to his will. To make the other male bow to him and serve as his slave once more. He watches the bed now as Clint is out like a light, on top the fine woven blankets upon the bed. Watching the expression of focus on Clint’s face, that softens as he slips further into sleep.

Loki creeps over to the bed, as quietly as a cat, climbing up on the bed with the other mail. Leaning down to run his lips, feather light, against Clint and gently kissing him. It bringing back the buried memories from their time together in the past. They resurfacing and he plans on fulfilling the memories and desires. Running his fingers over Clint’s face, tracing those aging lines caused by all the stress he deals with during his missions with SHIELD. Loki does not approve the hard work his hawk does for them. Brushing his thumbs over Clint’s closed lids; leaning in close till their noses are touching one another before whispering to his little hawk.

“I wish I knew what they did to you. Why you don’t remember me. I will get you the golden apple and we can be together, forever, my little hawk,” he kisses the other male’s lips with love before laying his head down on the pillow beside Clint’s head. Here he shall rest beside his hawk till the sun rises and he has to work on persuading Idunn into giving him one of the golden apples, or he is going to have to steal one. Either way, it will be no laughing matter. Idunn has sharp eyes and she knows when something is going wrong in her garden realm. A single leaf is out of place and she’ll know what is up. He has to take a form that will go under her detection. He brushes his fingers back over Clint’s face with a slight smile on his lips. His little hawk will come in help, for Idunn does not worry much about humans and Clint is most likely the only human she has ever met. “Rest my little hawk, I have plans for you. Plans that enough using your greatest talent to fetch one of Idunn’s most treasured golden apples. And then, only then, will you be healed of what those dirty Midgardians have done to you. Maybe your memories will return to you of our time together.” He kisses Clint gently on the lips once more and watches the other male smile slightly. Time for sleep.

\------------------------------------------------

Clint wakes, feeling quite refreshed really. Energy flowing through his body and he feels like he could run a few miles and not break a sweat. Maybe it was the fruit they were served with dinner. Yes, he reminds himself they he is no longer back on Earth. Instead he is in the realm of plants. A realm occupied by such figures that looks like elves to him. Tall and thin figures with pointy ears and elegant faces. 

He sits up and stretches his arms up above his head, then then rubs at the bandages tight around his neck. Oh how they itch. He slips from the bedding, walking over to the dresser and peering into the mirror fixed to the back. He removes the bandages and looking at the soft scar tissue forming just underneath. Running a finger gingerly over the pink and white scar tissue. Hissing silent as there is a deep stinging sensations, much like being stung by a wasp. He quickly rewraps his neck and looks around for Loki, but the room is otherwise empty. The tall dark mysterious male no where in sight and Clint breathes a sight of relief.

Walking over to the open window and peering many flights down to the forest floor. Still trying to come to terms that he is staying in a room within a tall oak tree. He shakes his head quickly and turns away from the window, moving towards the bed and opening his nap sack. Looking over the things he has brought with him. Some food, a carving knife and some think twine. This is all he needs to survive on his own. Grabbing his bag and walking back out the window, eyeing the distance down and to ledges and branches protruding from the tree itself. Slipping out the window and making his way down to the ground when he is startled by Lokis’ voice. Loosing his concentration and grip, tumbling down to the ground with a thud, landing on his back. Lucky it didn’t snap it and kill himself in an instant.

“What are you doing, hawk?” Loki appears beside him quickly and sounding worried. Clint gives a quiet groan, rolling over off his back and glaring up at Loki as the other male crouches over top of him. Waving a hand at him in the manner of speak ‘I am fine. Leave me be.’ Then pushing himself back up and readjusting his pack. “You up for an adventure, hawk? We have a long day ahead of us,” Loki pats him on the back and Clint lurches forward, having to regain his balance from his tumble. So he turns to Loki and slowly nods his head up and down and agrees to the adventure Loki has planned out. There’s nothing he could really do to get out of it. Giving a silent sigh and follows Loki out of the woods. Here is where their day begins.


	8. Chapter 8

They reach the tree line of the forest, on the other side is wide open grassland and the boundary of Idunn’s garden. Loki having informing him that they will stick to the tree line. Clint is hoping inside that the god of mischief knows where they are going. After some time, his legs are becoming sore. Usually this is not a problem, but without the healing resting time at the hospital and that tumble out of the tree, he feels worn to the bone. Coming to a halting stop to sit on the ground. Loki turns to glare at him.

“We have no time for breaks, hawk,” he growls lowly and Clint ignores him, breaking out his small canteen of water to drink of. If there’s one thing he has learned from all his missions with SHIELD, it is to always stay hydrated. Loki approaches him now and Clint shakes his head, pouring some of the water into his hands and running his fingers through his hair. It is humid out and oddly there’s two suns in the sky. Loki snatches away his pack and pulls out the thick twine, tying it around Clint’s left leg. He frowns in confusion at this till he is over come with an odd sensation setting deep in his bones. A deep burning sensation with the feeling of shrinking. “This will help you and make our travel a little easier,” Loki grins and Clint’s heart begins to beat a million miles a second, not understanding what is happening to his body till he begins to sprout feathers. It doesn’t take lone for him to take the form of a large healthy Harris hawk. 

He gives a silent screech in protest, his injury having followed over, even into his current form.

“Much better,” Loki gives a smile as Clint flaps his wings, lifting himself up off the ground and landing none to gracefully onto Loki’s arm. Wings out to keep his balance. Constantly twitching his head around to look at his surroundings and to eye Loki. The god seems to be grinning evilly at his marvelous piece of work. “Come, we must still continue along our journey, Clint. I am in need of you. This way you will conserve your energy wisely while I keep you at bay,” Loki leans down and picks up his pack, giving the string a tug and Clint pecks at his arm with his new sharp beak. “Oh, do not do that, hawk. These are some of my finest clothes,” Loki frowns at him, but Clint picks up on his joking. Stretching out his wings to try flight. Elevating up in the air by a few feet before he is given the reminding tug that he is tethered to Loki. Landing once more onto the god’s arm and staying put this time as Loki continues walking. “You learn quickly, Barton. That’s a plus for you in the matter. There’s many things you will need to learn,” Loki smiles. “Hmm, I find it easier talking to you like this. Maybe I will keep you my little hawk a little longer.” Clint protests by beating his wings quickly a few times. “Alright, alright, do calm down before you hurt yourself, hawk. It will do you no good and you’ll only wear yourself out.”

Clint pecks and pulls on Loki’s sleeve while flapping his rapidly. Loki sighs and allows him to be released of the tether. Quickly rising up on warm air, up above the tree line and able to see for miles with his sharp hawk eyes. Spotting a tree that is much larger and taller than the rest in the dense dark forest. He can see that is heavily laden with large shiny fruit. That must be the tree they are trekking for, the tree of the golden apples. He descends in a downward spiral and landing back onto Loki’s arm.

“You saw it, didn’t you, Barton? The tree of the golden apples?” Clint nods his head repeatedly and watches the smile that tugs across Loki’s lips. “That is where we are heading. We must be cautious and stealthy. The tree is heavily guarded by Idunn. It is her most prized possession, there are no others. There is one and only one. We most get our hands on one of those apples.” Clint is beginning to regret this journey.


	9. Chapter 9

He had released the hawk into the mid morning clear blue sky. Watching him rise with the slight breeze, pushing her light body effortlessly up up up. Loki watched him with equally sharp eyes as the hawk circles above him and then tucks its wings back, diving down quickly. With talons outstretched, it catches a grass weasel. Beating its wings quickly to rise up into the air once more, a tight grip on its prey.

“Barton,” Loki calls out, holding his right arm up, bent at the elbow, the hawk returns to him, dropping the weasel at his feet. “Well, I see what we are eating for lunch then.” He bends down and picks up the limp and lifeless creature, turning into the tree line to start a fire. Clint lands onto the ground beside him, eyes trained on the weasel as Loki skillfully skins it. Rigging up a spit and lighting the fire with the ease of a single spell.

Loki glances to the hawk as it watches the meat closely turning. Loki pulls out a green cloak from his traveling sack. Tossing it over the hawk, hiding it underneath. Muttering the words to undo the spell he has upon Clint. In an instant, the green cloth moves and shakes as Clint writhes underneath in the pain of changing back to his naked human form. Peeking his head out from under the thick cloth, hair slicked back with sweat and mouth hung open, panting.

“Better,” Loki smiles at him ever to coyly, loving to see his little servant is back to his human form. “If you stayed too long in your hawk form...the mind of the hawk would start to take over yours. Blurring your judgment. Magic always comes with a price, Barton. If you’re using it or someone is using it on you.” Loki feels he should share that tad bit of knowledge with Clint, though he knows the agent will rat him out once he gets his voice back.

Quietly, they eat their lunch together. Clint’s fingers are trembling and he finds it hard to keep hold of his food as he tries his best to eat. Loki feared this would happen, already the bit of the hawk is still left inside Clint. He should have over come the side effects of the change already. At least he is now fed and food in his stomach so that they may continue on with their journey.


	10. Chapter 10

After discovering that it takes him awhile to relearn how to walk, Clint is stumbling along after Loki when the sly god takes a sudden turn back into the dark of the forest. Together they travel over the darkened dirt and leaf covered ground. Only stray strands of light penetrate through the tree canopy and actually make it to the ground below. He has tripped several times now, over tree roots, and landing on his face on the ground; none to gracefully. Each time Loki has to pull him back up and he dusts himself off before they continue.

Just when he feels like he is regaining control of his own body, Loki holds out his arm and stops him. Clint was not paying attention, hitting Loki’s arm and loosing his balance, he falls backwards, landing on his arse with a silent curse. Of course a time like this would come about. He lifts his head and looks up as to why Loki has stopped.

Standing before them, tall and strong, with a trunk as wide as a building, stands the apple tree. It’s gnarly and knotted with age and Clint approaches slowly to investigate. Reaching out with a shaky hand and laying it over the cold bark. He swears he can almost feel a heartbeat underneath. Slowly turning and looking back at Loki for acknowledgment; watching the god nod his head up and down slowly. Clint steps back and cranes his neck, looking up the tree to see how far up it really goes. Spotting the golden apples bobbing on some low branches and he can’t help but smile. Turning to Loki and pointing up at the apples.

“Yes, little hawk, that is what we are here for,” Loki nods and calls Clint back over to him. “Think you can get one down without climbing the tree?”

Clint nods his head quickly, pulling open his sack for the twine he has brought along on their tip. Looking around him for the perfect ‘Y’ shaped piece of wood. Flipping out a pocket knife and working on whittling away some extra wood. Fashioning himself a sling shot, showing Loki his final result before he searches for some perfect little pebbles. It is not easy to find pebbles in a thick forest of trees, but he succeeds with a small handful. Returning to Loki’s side with his rocks, loading one into the homemade sling shot. Taking aim at the stem of one of the apples, and he misses. Silently beating himself up, for he never misses his target. Trying with another pebble, this time slowly aiming till he knows the rock will hit, before releasing it. The pebble slices through the stem with ease and the golden apple drops. Loki stepping forward and catching it before it can touch the ground. Clint drops his sling shot and approaches the god with the golden apple. It looks as if it really is made out of gold, that it should be heavy; but when Loki hands it over to him, he finds it incredibly light. The skin is taunt and the gold shines brightly, even in the darkness. This is what he needs to heal his vocal cords and feel right about his life? Just one little bite of this? As he opens his mouth, ready to bite into the apple and wonder if it’s juicy or dry, he spots Idunn standing behind Loki, a look of hurt upon her pretty face.

He lowers the apple down from his mouth and she approaches him with such elegance, all together seeming to float across the ground. With one out stretched hand, he gives her the golden apple. She cradles it like a fine possession and Clint looks to Loki. The god is standing in a defensive stance, legs wide apart, and a frown on his face.

“I have never had a human eat one of my apples before,” she whispers, lifting her blue eyes to look at him and he feels he can not move, that his feet are planted into the ground. “I have looked into your past, Clinton Barton.” He gulps, swallowing compulsively, over and over. “And I have come to the conclusion that you are meant to have this apple. Eat from it and heal all your wounds, eat from it and have internal life,” she smiles at him and extends the apple back out to him. He takes it with shaking fingers once more. “Eat the apple, Clinton,” she whispers his name and he feels that be most obey her.

Bringing the golden apple back up to his lips, drawing in the smell. He then opens his mouth and takes a slow first bite. Instantly, his body begins to tingle and heat as hot as a fire and he drops the apple to the ground, looking at Idunn. She continues to smile upon him as a heat so hot, sears around his neck and he feels as if he may choke. Going down on his hands and knees as he dry heaves. Only then does he hear sound coming from his mouth once more. Looking up at Loki and Idunn with wide scared eyes.

“Welcome back, little hawk,” Loki whispers, giving him a smile and an outstretched hand, helping to pull him back up on his feet once more. He can feel his heart beating a mile a minute inside his chest as his blood pumps quickly through his veins. He grins from ear to ear, fingers feeling at his neck. The awful ragged scaring is gone, all there is is smooth soft skin.

“This is it?” he asks, trying out his new voice and finding it does not hurt to speak. He is over come with joy, just wait till he returns home to Natasha; she’ll be glad. His thoughts come to a train wreak halt as he looks to Loki. Seeing in his eyes that he really wants him. The god is lonely, Clint has seen his room filled with books. And his life back on Earth, was never exciting to begin with. His life was bumpy and the pay from SHIELD was none better. Maybe this is where he belongs, in a mystical realm light years away from Earth. Start new. 

He takes another bite of the apple with a smile, looking at Idunn now. She seems happy to see him eating one of her prized apples, almost proud really.

Now begins his life of eternity and healing, living with the god of lies and fire, in a realm far more intricate than his own.

“Welcome back, my little hawk. You are healed, now let us journey home together.” Loki offers out an extended hand, which Clint takes without hesitation. Scrubbed out memories resurfacing, of the battle of New York and the brain control Loki had on him. But Clint understands that it wasn’t really Loki and forgives him. This is their time to start over, together.


End file.
